


of Kates and dogs

by htbthomas



Category: Hawkeye (Comics)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Kate in LA, Loyalty, POV Animal, Yuletide 2014, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-02-28 18:05:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2741978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/htbthomas/pseuds/htbthomas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucky tilts his head up at her, and Pizza Girl gives him a tired smile. She needs sleep. She needs to curl up in bed for many, many hours. He would keep her warm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	of Kates and dogs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [milleniumrex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/milleniumrex/gifts).



> From the prompt: "Injured!Kate being stubborn and refusing to rest because there's cases to solve." Inspired by Hawkeye #11.
> 
> Thanks to damalur for betaing - you are too sweet.

Lucky’s tongue hangs out as the ocean breeze ruffles his fur, his head out the window of the car. Pizza Girl reaches over to scratch him under one ear, and his wagging tail flaps against the seat in a steady, happy tempo. He likes this place. The air here tastes different, the sun feels warmer on his nose, the people are friendlier but also more distant, ignoring him for their little hand machines. But they do not yell at him, they do not kick him out of the way. Many people, many dogs, which means many people who like dogs and know how to scratch behind the ears just the right way. More green plants, more places to run. Lots of things are different.

Mostly, though, everything _smells_ different. 

Tall Building City had many good smells, many interesting smells. Food and cars and garbage and dirt and human smells. Bad smells, too, blood and gunpowder and death. Sometimes Pizza Guy’s home smelled like all of these at the same time.

New Place has some of the same smells, but more flowers and cleaning products and ocean far away, but also soot and a little acrid smell from the gray air sometimes. 

And coffee. Both places smell like coffee. But that’s good. Coffee means Pizza Guy and Pizza Girl. 

Right now, here in the car, he smells Pizza Girl’s perfume, her sweat, the salad she had for lunch, all good. But also… blood. This is not good. Pizza Girl scratches at the edge of a bandage, and the smell gets stronger.

He pulls his head in from the window and whines, laying his head on the seat. When Pizza Guy smelled like blood, he would lie down on his bed for hours, for days. No food, then. Lucky had to scavenge sometimes, wait for Pizza Girl to come by, maybe scratch at the doors on the hallway if someone was home.

No food, but also no scratches, no walks, no sitting on the couch while Pizza Guy watches TV.

And when Pizza Guy is not moving, it makes Pizza Girl sad. Lucky doesn’t like it when Pizza Girl is sad.

New Place keeps Pizza Girl busy, which makes her happy. So Lucky is happy, too. Except when he smells blood. He whines again.

“_ _ _, Lucky? _ _ wrong?”

He sniffs at the bandage, careful not to touch it.

“Don’t _ _, _ _ nothing.”

He lays his head back on the seat.

* * *

“C’mon, Lucky! _ _ _!”

Pizza Girl runs ahead of him, low to the ground, her pointy weapon clutched in one hand. Lucky runs silent beside, keeping his one good eye on the trail ahead. No bad men. Pizza Girl wants to find bad men. He hopes she doesn’t find them.

He smells them before she sees them. Heavy body stink and heavier cologne stink. He growls low in his throat, low so that only she hears, and she slows to a rolling walk, her sneakers soft as footpads.

Bad men shout when Lucky surprises them. He barks, keeping them off-guard, and bad men don’t see the arrows until they are stuck to the wall. One throws a punch at Pizza Girl—her cry of pain makes his vision wash grayish-red, the same color as the bad man’s blood on Lucky’s teeth.

“Good dog,” she says, stumbling into the apartment. Her bandage is wet again, staining the her shirt. She scratches him under his ear, the way he likes, but her fingers fall away long before he wants them to.

Lucky tilts his head up at her, and Pizza Girl gives him a tired smile. She needs sleep. She needs to curl up in bed for many, many hours. He would keep her warm.

Instead, she sits at the table, shaking the little bottle, the one with the long orange pills. They taste _terrible_. Pizza Girl swallows four.

* * *

Lucky nudges Pizza Girl’s face with his nose, nudges the sunglasses from her eyes. She doesn’t stir. She sleeps, finally, but it is not the kind of sleep Lucky wanted. It is not sleep in her soft bed. It is the scary sleep on the hard pavement, the sleep in the cold dark. The sleep that becomes death.

The blood smell is very strong. New blood mixing with the old blood. The bad men hurt her, hurt her so much she fell here and did not move. She is alive, alive now, but… Lucky whines and nudges her again.

The Lucky hears footsteps. Could it be another bad man? Lucky stands in front of Pizza Girl and growls a warning.

The man stops. He smells of mint and baby powder. “_ _ _, boy,” the man says. “_ _ won’t _ _ you.” He peers around Lucky and his face purses with concern. “Who _ _ _? _ _ hurt?”

This man does not sound like the bad men from before. Maybe he will help? Lucky whines. 

The man takes a few steps, careful and slow. He looks again, his hand rubbing at the whiskers on his chin, the way Pizza Guy does sometimes when he is quiet. Then the man pulls something from his pocket and Lucky rabbits forward, barking. The man holds up the item to show Lucky; it flashes in the street light. A hand machine. “_ _ _ phone, okay?” It is not a gun, so Lucky backs up with a whuff, standing guard over Pizza Girl.

He will not leave her. Not when the men with the flashing red lights and comforting voices arrive. Not during the ride in the big truck. Not until a lady in the strange-medicine-smelling building tries to clip his collar with a leash.

Then he runs. He runs all the way back to Pizza Girl’s apartment. And there he waits.

* * *

Lucky hears Pizza Girl moan, very softly, and he wakes, instantly alert. 

He sniffs the air. No gunpowder, no bad men. Just flowers... coffee ... pizza ... the way Pizza Girl is supposed to smell, with just a hint of a medicine-y tang. The smell of blood is gone. 

_Oof._

Her arm smacks across his back as she turns in her sleep, Lucky whines slightly, then burrows closer into Pizza Girl’s side. He sighs in contentment and goes back to sleep.


End file.
